


We Are All Made Of Stars

by gemjam



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 11:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2066577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Kurt Vonnegut's <i>Slaughterhouse Five</i> - Sebastian Vettel is twenty one years old when he first comes unstuck in time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are All Made Of Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to zeraparker for the beta job and twowittoowhoo for all her help with this.

Sebastian Vettel is twenty one years old when he first comes unstuck in time. He's just taken his first ever Formula 1 race win, closing his eyes for a moment to soak it up as his team congratulates him over the radio, and when he opens his eyes again he's stood in a house he doesn't recognise.

The silence rings in his ears, his own breaths sounding so loud in the quiet and the stillness he finds himself in. He doesn't move, looking around the kitchen, the tiles cold under his bare feet. He's wearing pyjama bottoms, a hoodie, the sun high so it must be midday, not a cloud in the sky but there's snow on the ground.

He takes a step forward, everything seeming unreal, and he wonders why this doesn't unnerve him quite as much as it should. On the table is a recently opened package, a padded envelope with his name written on it and an address in Switzerland but the stamps are German. He turns it over, looking for a clue, and sees that the return address is that of his parent's house, but the handwriting looks too young.

Beside the package is a Christmas card, a generic winter image on the front, similar to what he sees outside his window. He opens it up, reading the greeting inside.

_Seb_

_A little pre-Christmas gift I've been working on. Looking forward to seeing you over the holidays!_

_Fabian  
x_

Sebastian looks around, trying to find the gift, when he notices a book on the counter, a photograph of himself in a Red Bull racesuit stuck to the front, the words _Seb, der Sieger_ hand-written beneath in gold pen. He studies the picture, the smile on his face, the single finger held upwards with determination. Maybe he's just won another race. _Seb, der Sieger_. He could get used to that name.

As he opens the book, starts flicking through the pages that are filled with photographs, newspaper clippings, handwritten commentary in that same gold pen, it becomes quickly obvious that he's won much more than one race. By a quarter of the way through the book, he's won a world championship.

Sebastian stares, his eyes wide and shining, overwhelmed by the thought. A world championship. It's all he's ever dreamed of. He knew, if he could pull off the win in Monza, make good on his pole, that Red Bull would probably come calling, but he couldn't imagine it would all happen this quickly. Two and a half years. He's two and a half years away from a world championship.

He leans against the counter, continuing to turn the pages, and by the time he's at the end of the book he has four world championships and tears running down his cheeks. He sniffles, curling his toes and hunching his shoulders, smiling so wide that his face hurts. He considers the fact that this is just a hallucination, an elaborate daydream fuelled by his win, but he reaches out and touches the last photograph in the book, a shot of him and his team celebrating on the podium, all of them wearing T-shirts in his honour, and somewhere deep down inside it feels like a memory.

*

He misses the podium, the celebrations, finds himself in his hotel room in Milan, midway through stripping for a shower. It's a disjointed moment to jump into and he looks at himself in the mirror as though trying to check that he's real. A smile soon comes over his face, not just at what he's achieved today but everything he knows is waiting for him in the future.

He opens the bathroom door, finding his winner's trophy sat on the desk, and he lifts it up, looks it over, the first time he's had it in his hands. He likes the weight of it, something so gratifying about the fact he can really feel it all the way up to his shoulders. He hefts it over his head, imagining the crowd, his team below him. He wonders if he'll ever get those moments back, if they'll return to him, or rather, if he'll return to them.

*

It happens again a week later, a slightly dizzy sensation making him pause as he steps off the treadmill in the gym and then he's sat on a beach somewhere, his feet halfway buried in the warm sand, wriggling his toes as he tries to get his bearings.

The sun is hot, a prickling of sweat making his skin shine, and it feels different to the sweat he worked up in the gym. Everything feels different, his body lighter, like all the tension has been lifted from it.

He's on the edge of the beach, the periphery, and he wonders at the obvious choice to exclude himself, but maybe he just wants a bit of peace and quiet. There's sun worshippers, kids building sandcastles, people splashing in the waves, surfers further out.

Sebastian spots someone approaching and lifts a hand to shield the sun from his eyes, putting the silhouette into better focus. He's older, grey hairs at the temples, more crinkles around his eyes, but Sebastian still recognises him; Mark Webber. Sebastian thinks he must be older too.

Mark is carrying two paper cups of ice cream with little plastic spoons stuck in the top and he hands one to Sebastian as he sits down.

"Thanks," Sebastian says, picking out the spoon. "What flavour is it?"

"The flavour you asked for," Mark responds, giving him an amused look.

Sebastian licks the yellow ice cream off the spoon. Banana. He scoops up a bigger bit, shoving it in his mouth. His eyes wander to Mark's ice cream, something chocolatey, and Mark catches him looking.

"You want some?" he offers.

Sebastian lifts his spoon to take a scoop but Mark gets there first, offering his own spoon out to Sebastian, a clear invitation. Sebastian hesitates, parting his lips, everything seeming to come into focus as his mouth closes around the little plastic spoon. The way Mark's looking at him, the intimacy of the moment, it leaves no doubt in Sebastian's mind. He smiles as Mark pulls the spoon from his lips.

"Good?"

"Very good," Sebastian agrees, barely noticing the rich flavour of the ice cream melting over his tongue.

*

Sebastian gets giddy when he hears about the feature with Mark in Singapore. Giddy is an emotion he would usually attribute to noisy kids or excited teenage girls, but he has to admit that nothing more accurately describes this bouncy feeling inside him.

It feels like a first date, even though there's none of that warmth from Mark that he felt on the beach. But Mark doesn't know him yet, doesn't know what's to come. This is his first impression and Sebastian's not even that nervous like he normally would be because he knows he doesn't mess this up. He knows exactly how it ends.

Mark is cool and unflustered, a stillness about him even when his voice is playful, and Sebastian has to admit he's maybe a little bit intimidated. He likes this proximity to Mark though, likes the opportunity to get to know him better. When Mark runs towards him as he stands on the edge of that rooftop, their bodies pressed briefly together, Sebastian wants to cling to him, not because he's scared that he'll fall, but because it seems like the most natural thing in the world to do.

*

It happens more and more over the following months. He'll blink, open his eyes, and find himself in 2017 at a family dinner to celebrate his brother finishing school. They're all sat around the table in his parents' dining room, eating food that his mother cooked, laughing and smiling and talking about old times. It's already a strange concept to Sebastian; tomorrow could so easily turn into yesterday for him.

At the end of the meal he promises his parents that he'll visit more, even though to him it only seems like days since he saw them last. He wonders what's been keeping him away. He hopes he has more good things in his life than bad, wonders if Mark is his yet.

*

Sometimes he'll open a door and find himself in 2037 at his own 50th birthday party. Mark is there, smiling by the cake, more grey hairs than he had on the beach, escaping from his temples now and threatening to wash the colour out completely.

His parents are there too, his mother barely moving from her chair, his father using a cane to move around, and they look so old and frail, the life sucked out of them. His sisters are there, his brother, children he tries to remember the names of and grandchildren he doesn't know. Everything seems to be about family and love and Sebastian feels perfectly at home.

*

On one occasion he misses a step going downstairs for a glass of water in the dark and finds himself in 2013 on the top step of the podium, his team cheering for him below but it's drowned out by the booing of the crowd. It hurts but he smiles, looking down at the people who support him, trying to shut it out, pretend he can't hear, because he doesn't know the right reaction to this. The men either side of him want nothing to do with him and somehow Sebastian knows, if Mark were here, it would be even worse.

*

He starts to forget what the present tense means. His life becomes like a book left open, the pages turning in the breeze, and he never knows where they might settle but he knows the story. He learns the narrative of his life and wherever he drops in he can easily adapt to the moment, always getting an intrinsic feeling of how it's supposed to play out.

So he always knows that he's going to win four world championships, but he also knows what comes next, how quickly it all slips away. 2014 when the wins come to an abrupt stop and even the podiums are fickle. 2015 is worse, when the already fractured team shatters. Adrian Newey switches his priorities to fresher pastures and Dietrich Mateschitz sells the team and suddenly it feels like a rush to the lifeboats.

During those winning years he always makes a point to tell the team after each chequered flag to appreciate it, to never take anything for granted, because he knows what they don't. Those four years are just a tiny drop in the ocean for all of them, lost in the saltiness that stings like tears.

*

It's 2013, China, press day. Sebastian knows all the things that have led to this moment but he hasn't lived them yet. He knows what he did to Mark in Malaysia, what he did to the team, and standing by his actions takes his self-loathing over events to a new high. It makes his skin crawl.

He sits in the Energy Station, staring across the space at the point where he saw Mark disappear earlier, pretending Sebastian didn't exist as he made his way to his private room. Christian sits down in his line of sight and Sebastian blinks, frowning at him. He feels like a thread's been snapped and he might not ever be able to get close to Mark again.

"It's in the past," Christian says quietly, clearly not wanting to be overheard, to have this conversation in front of a team still stinging from such public humiliation. "You need to move on."

Sebastian stares at him and he doesn't know how to explain that he can't. It's not over for him, it will never be over, because he'll keep getting dragged back here, have to face up to it again and again. At some point he'll have to live that moment, the overtake, the immediate fallout, and it terrifies him. It's the one moment he dreads more than anything and whenever he gets close to it he feels like he's circling the drain, a desperation inside to claw himself away, to a time when everything is less broken and he doesn't have to question his own motives and wonder just what kind of a man he is.

*

He knows his first kiss with Mark is in 2020 filming a retrospective of the 2010 season for Sky. It's two days of filming in London and they stay in the same hotel. The first night they have a couple of drinks at the bar. The second night they have a couple of drinks and Mark walks Sebastian up to his room.

He hasn't lived it yet but he knows the moment just like he knows every moment of his life, sees them woven together as he swings above on a pendulum, dropping down like a raindrop and soaking into the tapestry before being lifted up and swinging off again, thrown to another point in his timeline.

The first kiss he actually _experiences_ with Mark is in 2026 at Mark's parents' house at Christmas under a piece of mistletoe. It's soft, almost teasing, Mark pulling slowly back to make Sebastian rise up onto his tiptoes, smiling into the kiss when he loses his balance, leaning against Mark. They're in the kitchen doorway and Mark's sister has to clear her throat to get through with the dishes she's holding. Sebastian blushes and steps aside, not missing the warm look she gives him, an acceptance of his place in the family.

*

He shifts in his seat and finds himself in 2009, a back room at the Energy Station, a cup of hot chocolate cradled in his hands. He's wearing his coat, even though it's indoors, and there's no windows in the room but he gets the sense of rain in the atmosphere.

People come and go through the small space as he sits at a table with Mark, a car magazine open between them. They're looking at the new Porsche GT2, reading sections of the review and offering their own opinions. It's an easy conversation, comfortable, not what anyone would expect of them. The rivalry is played up, the disputes magnified, and maybe that's why it all falls so spectacularly apart between them. Sebastian is hardly looking at this from an objective point of view though; he's looking at the man he knows he falls in love with.

"What do you reckon?" Sebastian asks.

Mark purses his lips together, looking at the car. "We should both get one."

Sebastian smiles, taking another sip of his hot chocolate, and he knows that they do.

*

When Sebastian opens his eyes first thing in a morning he never knows where he'll be waking up. He shifts under the heavy duvet and is pleased to find a body beside his, humming contentedly as he shifts closer. Mark wraps his arms around Sebastian with a sleepy sigh, tugging him in close.

"Good morning," he mumbles against Sebastian's lips.

"Good morning," Sebastian returns, smiling his way into the kiss.

This is his favourite way to wake up, his favourite place to be. If he had any say in the matter he would stay forever in moments like this, warm and happy and content. It's hard, knowing that at any moment he could slip back to a time when Mark hated him, when there was little between them but contempt. It makes this feel so fragile and Sebastian knows that it's not, that it lasts, that it's real, but to him everything is fleeting, the good and the bad alike, and sometimes he can't quite come to terms with that.

Mark rolls them, pushing Sebastian onto his back, pressing a thigh between his legs to hold them open. Sebastian makes an appreciative noise and he's not hard, it's all lazy and without intent, but the possibility is there and it's becoming more distinct by the minute.

Mark's phone rings on the bedside table and Sebastian gives a groan of annoyance. Mark pulls back, smiling at him. "Hold that thought." He rolls over to his own side of the bed, frowning slightly at the number before accepting the call. "Hey," he greets cheerily. Sebastian can see his face fall almost immediately. He watches Mark form vague questions using single words, looking increasingly lost, and he has a feeling he knows what the date is.

He reaches for his own phone, confirming his suspicions – 17th of April 2031.

Mark hangs up, looking stunned for a moment, and then he suddenly sits up, looking at Sebastian over his shoulder. "My dad had a heart attack," he says like he can scarcely believe it.

Sebastian tries to look shocked because he should be. "I'm sorry," he says, sitting up to join him, but the words don't sound right, his reaction diluted, because he knows about this, has seen it before.

"I have to..." Mark says, looking hopelessly at Sebastian.

"We'll get a flight," Sebastian agrees quickly, reaching out to squeeze Mark's arm and it feels awkward but he can't quite reach his hand. "We'll go now. We'll charter one if we have to."

Mark stares at him, looking like he's about to shatter, and then he snaps himself out of it, jumping to his feet and throwing open the wardrobe, pulling things out like he has no idea what he's doing. Sebastian makes the arrangements, helps him pack a bag, makes sure they've got their passports and money. He calls the neighbour and asks him to look after the dogs while they're away. They drop the house keys off on the way past, Sebastian leaving Mark sat in the passenger seat as he runs to the door.

When he returns he goes to turn the key in the ignition but Mark reaches out, grabbing his arm. Sebastian looks up at him. "He'll be alright, won't he?" Mark asks, a childlike hope in his voice.

It's the question Sebastian was dreading because he knows the answer. He knows that by the time they get there it's too late, Alan is already gone. He knows that Mark will never forgive himself for not being there. He knows that, after a couple of weeks of mourning and trying to heal, Sebastian has commitments in Europe that force him home, leaving Mark behind, scared that nothing will ever tear Mark from his family again, that they'll have to live the rest of their lives with half a world between them.

"Yeah," he says, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue. "I'm sure he'll be fine. When we get there he'll be wondering what all the fuss is about."

Mark smiles, amused but brittle, and Sebastian squeezes his hand before reaching again for the ignition.

*

An engineering meeting in 2011, discussing data from the Friday practice sessions, and Sebastian is distracted by how distant Mark is to him. Even when directly responding to something Sebastian has said, Mark won't look at him, will direct his words anywhere but at Sebastian's face, and it hurts. He feels like he doesn't deserve this, he was just holding Mark's hand in an airport lounge, being his rock, loving him with everything he had, and now Mark can't even stand the sight of him.

He knows that logically one thing has nothing to do with the other, but there seems to be little logic in the way he's forced to live his life. It seems so cruel to get thrown back here, to have Mark constantly snatched away from him to live out moments of cold indifference.

The years that he and Mark are together far outweigh their time as warring teammates and yet those four years shaped so much of Sebastian's life and he both loves and hates living them. They were still his winning years after all. They were the years that gave him his championships. Sometimes he feels like they define him more than any other era and yet they were so short in the great scheme of things. They were nothing. Just one more drop in the ocean. But what would an ocean be without all those drops? An uninhabitable desert.

*

The calendar on the wall says it's February 2058 and the only sound is the ticking of a clock in the hallway. Sebastian's body seems to creak as he moves. He knows that Mark died almost exactly two years ago, same cause of death as his father.

He still walks, doesn't shuffle or stoop, but there's aches and pains he can't quite deny. He steps into the downstairs bathroom, switches on the light, and stares into the mirror, barely recognising the man he sees looking back at him. He's almost completely bald now, has been for a long time. His skin is soft, feeling almost paper thin, and instead of stubble he just grows whiskers, springing up overnight in a way that reminds Sebastian of how he's lived his life.

There's a whirring from the hall and then the little cuckoo jumps out of the clock three times. Mark bought the clock in Switzerland just before they moved into the house in Germany, a reminder of what Sebastian was leaving behind, as if Sebastian could ever leave anything behind. It has sat on that wall for 31 years and it will sit there until Sebastian dies. After that, who knows. He supposes his great-nieces and nephews will clear the house away and maybe it will be sold or thrown out. It's an ugly thing. It's one of Sebastian's most cherished possessions though.

He goes back through to the kitchen, stares at the calendar, the classic sports car that sits above the month. He should be in Australia now; October to March was always spent in Australia, April to September in Germany, their lives split in half as though a life could really be shared 50-50. He made the effort the year after Mark's death but not this year. He's too old to travel all that way, even in the luxury of first class, and really Australia has lost its sparkle without Mark.

*

Sebastian steps through a doorway, the warm evening air hitting him hard, the alcohol swimming through his veins making it hard to find his bearings. He was just alone in his house in Switzerland and now he's walking unsteadily down a seafront, Mark by his side, the salty air sticking in his throat.

Mark chuckles, putting an arm around Sebastian's shoulders to steady him. "You should have stopped about three drinks ago, mate."

Sebastian leans against Mark, an arm going around his waist. "I love you."

As soon as the slurred words have left his mouth Sebastian realises how risky they are. He hasn't worked out when he is yet and so he doesn't know if it's appropriate for him to say that. Clearly, they're close, dating, and Sebastian assumes they're in Australia. They didn't go there together until after _I love you_. Did they? Sometimes it's difficult to get it all straight in his head and the alcohol definitely isn't helping.

Mark snorts a laugh. "I know you do," he says indulgently. "Let's get you home"

The waves lap gently against the sand as they walk along the path above the beach, the light pollution just low enough for them to be able to see the stars. It feels romantic, Mark's arm around him making him feel safe and warm, and he's overcome with emotion, his throat closing up. He wants to stay here forever. He doesn't ever want to have to go back to all those times when he doesn't have Mark, where Mark doesn't even like him, where they did nothing but hurt each other.

"I'm sorry," he says.

Mark looks at him. "What?"

Sebastian shakes his head. "Don't make me go back. I don't want to leave you."

Mark gives him a bemused look. "Where do you think I'm going to make you go?" he asks. "We're just walking home."

"But I can never tell when it's going to happen," Sebastian says sadly. "I never know where I'm going to go."

Mark sighs, tugging him in close again. "You're fine," he tells him. "We're nearly there. I'll chuck you on the bed and take your shoes off and you can sleep until you need to throw up."

Sebastian pushes away from him, feeling disgruntled that he's not being taken seriously, but then he stumbles and nearly falls over his own feet and he doubts he looks very authoritative. He levels his gaze at Mark, blinking away the bleariness in his eyes.

"I'm unstuck," he says. Mark just stares at him, looking increasingly worried. "Sometimes I'm scared to blink because I don't know where I'll be when I open my eyes. And it's so unfair. I earned this. I lived my life and I earned this. I deserve you. Why do you keep getting taken away from me?"

"Seb, I'm not going anywhere," Mark assures him, moving in closer to cup his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sebastian can feel tears welling up in his eyes. "Was what I did so bad?" he asks, his voice small and broken.

"You didn't do anything," Mark says softly, shaking his head.

"I have to go back there and relive it all the time," Sebastian says. "And I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Don't let me go back. If you hold onto me. If you hold on maybe I won't go."

Mark stares at him for a moment and then he wraps Sebastian up in his arms, holding onto him so tightly he feels like he can't breathe. He buries his damp face in Mark's chest, suffocates himself in his scent, and then he starts to cry, his body shaking in Mark's arms. Mark rubs his back and kisses his temple and Sebastian knows that he won't let him go. He also knows that it won't make a difference.

*

His body feels stiff, heavy, not his own. He opens his eyes and he's in his house in Germany, a room that looks like a hospital. This is his death bed.

He looks to the side, smiling at his great niece, Nadine, Fabian's granddaughter. She looks over the top of her book, smiling back at him. She's his main carer now that he can't do much for himself, making sure he gets all his pain meds and is as comfortable as possible while they all wait for the inevitable.

Death doesn't scare Sebastian, not like it might a normal person. He knows this isn't where his timeline ends. He's not done yet, there's still gaps in his life that he hasn't lived through. Sometimes he wonders what happens when they run out, when he's inhabited each second of his life. Will he just blink out of existence, his consciousness gone, or will it all start over again, revisiting the moments in a random order, the fluidity of his life taking on an infinity. He's not sure which he'd prefer.

He looks at Nadine and part of him regrets the fact that he and Mark never had children. Mark didn't want kids and Sebastian never wanted anything as much as he wanted Mark. It wasn't a compromise so much as a consequence of their lives. When Sebastian was younger he assumed having children, leaving a legacy, was something that just happened naturally. After he came unstuck of course, he knew it was something that didn't happen to him. He wonders now if he accepted Mark's feelings on the issue so easily because it wasn't something he ever felt too passionately about, or simply because he had a cheatsheet to his life that told him all the answers so he never had to question a thing. Maybe he would have liked kids. Maybe he would have regretted it if he got the chance.

"Do you want a drink?" Nadine asks.

Sebastian nods, lifting his head slightly from the pillow as he takes the plastic cup in his weak arms, letting her help direct it to his mouth. He takes a couple of sips, moistening his lips and tongue, smiling at Nadine gratefully. She replaces the cup to the little table by the bed. Sebastian looks at the book folded on her lap.

"Read to me?" he asks.

Nadine looks amused but she opens the book up, finding her page. He likes it when she reads to him, likes her gentle voice telling him stories. He can never follow the plots, falling in and out of consciousness, knowing that she'll always read on without him. These are her stories; he's only privy to a tiny part of them.

_Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laugher was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering. When they were ten he asked her to marry him. When they were eleven he kissed her for the first time. When they were thirteen they got into a fight and for three weeks they didn't talk. When they were fifteen she showed him the scar on her left breast. Their love was a secret they told no one. He promised her he would never love another girl as long as he lived. **What if I die?** she asked. **Even then** he said._

*

Sebastian likes to try and guess the year from how many grey hairs Mark has. He stares at him across the breakfast table; somewhere between frosted temples and salt and pepper hair. They're in England, not yet moved to the house they'll buy together in Germany, so that gives Sebastian a fairly substantial clue. When he looks at the date on the newspaper Mark's reading he sees that he's only a year out – 25th of October 2026.

"You're really weird sometimes," Mark says, not looking up from the sports section.

Sebastian smiles. "I know," he agrees easily. He takes a sip of his orange juice, looking around the kitchen, the autumn sun shining in through the window, making everything look golden. The dogs are slumbering in their baskets, items from the breakfast preparations still sitting along the counter. "I like it here."

Mark does look at him then, raising his eyebrows. "You've changed your tune since last night, mate."

Sebastian looks at him sheepishly. That's the trouble with his life, he's not even sure if he's lived last night yet, let alone what he might have said or done. He offers a shrug. Mark gives him an amused smile, shaking his head as he lifts his coffee cup up to his lips.

"You're a nightmare," he says fondly. "Never know what you want from one minute to the next. You're worse than a woman."

Sebastian smiles. One minute to the next. If only life were that simple.

Mark drains his coffee cup, folding the paper haphazardly as he gets to his feet. "I'm going to take the dogs out," he says, their ears instantly pricking up at that. "You gonna get a fire going while I'm gone?"

"I'll come with you," Sebastian says, picking up Mark's paper and refolding it properly.

Mark gives a withering look at his perfectionist nature, picking up the breakfast dishes from the table. "You sure?"

"Of course," Sebastian responds.

In truth he knows he's clingy with Mark in these happy moments together and maybe Mark would prefer to go walk the dogs on his own but Sebastian can't bear the thought of letting Mark walk out of that door, not when Sebastian might have already jumped to somewhere else by the time he comes back. He wonders if their closeness is a result of this fear or how they would have ended up anyway. He doesn't really believe he can change the past, can affect how his life turns out, but he hopes. There's so many things he'd like to have done differently.

The heat from the sun is weak, no match for the chilly breeze. Sebastian keeps his hands buried deep in his pockets as they walk, staying close to Mark so that their arms brush together, grounding him in the moment.

"Might be time to head back to Oz soon I reckon," Mark says, looking up at the sky. It's clear and blue as though trying to prove him wrong.

"Coward," Sebastian says. "I like seasons."

"I like being outside and not freezing my arse off," Mark counters. He looks at Sebastian. "You should come and have an Aussie Christmas, mate. Trust me, you'd love it."

Sebastian smiles, the memory of the mistletoe coming back to him. "Christmas on the beach? That's just wrong."

"My parents don't live on the beach," Mark responds. "And don't knock it until you've tried it."

"Deal," Sebastian agrees.

Mark bumps their shoulders affectionately together before throwing a stick for the dogs.

They build that fire up when they get back, sitting under a blanket on the sofa and watching the flames flickering away. Sebastian ends up tucked underneath Mark's arm, his favourite place to be, and he fights the midday nap for as long as he can.

*

Sebastian knows what race this is instantly and he's glad his body always holds a kind of memory for jumping into moments like this. The realisation still has him faltering though and he doesn't make the pass. He's right behind Mark, glued to the back of him, and this move would be so easy.

"Come on, Seb, this is silly."

Christian's voice in his ear and Sebastian wants to listen, wants to stop this, wants to do as he's told and let Mark go because he can't deal with the aftermath. He doesn't want to destroy any last shred of love Mark has for this sport, any shred of respect he still has for Sebastian.

It's a split second decision, or maybe it's not a decision at all. He could save them years of heartbreak and animosity, patch up the rift while it's still small enough to overcome, win Mark's heart so much sooner. He could fix this. Instead he makes the pass.

He tells himself that he had no choice, that it's all pre-determined, that it's already happened, but it hurts right down to his bones because he's not sure. There's a flicker of doubt that maybe he chose this, that maybe, even with all the facts in front of him, he still chose his own downfall because he doesn't know how to lose. But how can losing eight years of his life to misery be worse than not winning a race?

"Multi 21, Seb. Multi 21."

Sebastian doesn't know what to say, can't defend himself, and so he just keeps drinking from his water bottle until he goes dizzy, feeling like he's going to burst. As he stands there on the podium it slowly soaks in, the shame and the guilt and knowledge of how broken it all gets. It doesn't shatter in a moment, not like everyone on the outside suspects. It's stress cracks that slowly tear it all apart and Sebastian knows there's certain people in the team he'll never win back, even if he gets Mark one day.

As they leave the podium he tries to speak to Mark, to apologise or appeal to him or maybe even tell the truth, as though now is the moment Mark would suddenly believe it. But he doesn't get a chance, Mark turns his head defiantly away, a clear dismissal.

Sebastian closes his eyes against the sting of tears and he can feel himself jump but he doesn't dare look. He doesn't want to know where he's ended up now. He feels wretched, a clawing desperation inside him, self-loathing that makes him understand the boos he's always felt slightly lost by until now.

Lips brush against his, prompting a sudden intake of breath, and then they're smiling against his mouth and kissing him again, a little bit harder. Sebastian opens his eyes to see the corridor of a London hotel, 2020. His first kiss with Mark.

He grins, feeling breathless and teary and lifted up. He wraps his arms around Mark's neck and pulls him in for another kiss, Mark's gentle lips, his hands on Sebastian's waist, a reminder that Mark forgives him, even if he might not be able to forgive himself.

**Author's Note:**

> The book read by Nadine is _The History of Love_ by Nicole Krauss.


End file.
